Desert Dust
By Edwin L Sabin
Author of “How Are You Feeling?" ete.
p' CHAPTER XXI
> We Wait The Summons
The Sioux had quieted. They
let the hollow alone, tenanted as
'it was with death; there was for
‘us a satisfaction in that tribute
to our defense. Quite methodi
cally, and with cruel show cf lei
sure they distributed themselves
by knots, in a half-encircling
Btring around our asylum; they
posted a sentry, ahorse, as a look
out; and lolling upon the bare
ground in the sun glare they
chatted, laughed, rested, but
never for an instant were we dis
'missed from their eyes and
^thoughts.
/ “They will wait, too. They
can afford it,” she murmured.
“It is cheaper for them than los
ing lives.”
“ If they knew we had only the
two cartridges—«-—t”
“They don't, vet.”
“And they will find out too
late,” I hazarded.
“Yt.h, too late. We shall have
time.” Her voice did not waver;
it heartened with its vengeful,
.determined mien.
Occasionally a warrior invoked
jUS by brandishing arm or weapon
in surety of hate and in promise
of fancied reprisal. What fools
they were! Now and again a
warrior galloped upon the back
trail; returned gleefully, per
haps to flourish an army canteen
at us.
“There probably ist water
where we heard the frogs last
night,” she remarked.
“I'm glad we didn’t try to
reach it, for camp,” said I.
"So am I,” said she. “We
might have run right into them.
We are better here. At least, I
vn.”
“And I,” I confirmed.
Strangely enough we seemed
to have little to say, now in this
preeious doldrums where we
were becalmed, between the dis
tant past and the unlogged fu
ture. We had not a particle of
shade, not a trace of coolness:
the sun was high, all our rocky
reoesH was a furnace, fairly
Reverberant with the heat; the
flies (and I vaguely pondered
upon how they had existed, pre
viously, and whence they had
gathered) buzzed briskly, at
traded by tho dead mule, unseen,
and captiously diverted to us
also. We lay tolerably bolstered,
without much movement; and as
the Sioux were not firing upon
us, we might wax careless of
their espionage.
Iler eyes, untroubled, scarce
ly left my face; 1 feared to let
mine leave hers. Of what she
was thinking I might not know,
and I did not seek to know—w’as
oddly yielding and content,
for our decisions had been made.
And still it was unreal, impos
sible : we, in I his guise ; the Sioux,
watching, the desert, waiting;
death hovering—a sudden death,
a violent death, the end of that
which had barely begun; an end
suspended in sight like the
Dionysian sword, with the single
hair already frayed by the
greedy shears of the Pate. A
snap, at our own signal; then
presto, change!
It simply could not bo true.
Why, somewhere my father and
mother busied, mindless; some
where Benton roared, mindless;
•omewhere the wagon train toil
ed on, mindless; the stage road
missed ua not, nor wondered; the
railroad graders shoveled and
•craped and picked as blithely
•a if the same desert did not con
tain them, and us: cities throb
bed, people worked and played,
and we were of as little concern
to them now as we would be a
year nenee.
Then it all pridcfully resolved
to this, like the wanning tune of
a fine battle chant: That I was
here, with my woman, my part
aer woman, the much desirable
woman whom I had won; which
was more than Daniel, or Monto
yo, or the Indian chief, or the
wdde world of other men could '
boast.
Soon she spoke, at times,
musingly.
“I did rnke up to you, at
first,” she said. ‘‘Xu Omaha,
and on the train.”
‘ * Did you! ” I smiled. She was
ao childishly frank.
“But that was ouly passing.
Then in Benton I knew you were
different. I wondered what it
was; but you were different from
anybody that I had met before.
There’s always such a moment in
• woman’s life.”
I soberly nodded. Nothing
could be a platitude m such a
place and such an hour.
“I wished to help you. Do you
believe that now?”
‘‘I believe you, dear heart,” I
assured.
‘‘But it was partly because I
thought you could help me,” she
said, like a confession. And she
added: ‘‘I had nothing wrong in
mind. You were to \e a friend,
not a lover. I had no need of
lovers; no, no.”
We were silent for an interval
Again she spoke.
“Do you care anything about
my family? I suppose not. That
doesn’t matter, here. But you
wouldn’t be ashamed of them. I
ran away with Montoyo. 1
thought he was something else.
How could I go home after that?
I tried to be true to him, we had
plenty of money, die was kind to
me at first, but he dragged me
down and my father and mother
don’t know even yet. Yes, I
tried to help him, too. I stayed
It’s a life that gets into one’s
blood. I feared him terribly, in
time. He was a breed, and a
devil—a gentleman devil.” She
referred in the past tense, as to
some fact definitely bygone. “I
had to play fair with him, or
And when I had done that, hop
ing, why, what else could I do or
where could I go? So many
people knew me.” She smiled.
“Suddenly I tied to you, sir. I
seemed to feel—I took the
chance.”
“Thank God you did,” I en
couraged.
“But I would not have wrong
ed myself, or you, or him,” she
eagerly pursued. “1 never did
wrong him.” She flushed. “No
man can convict me. You hurt
me when you refused me, ‘dear;
it told me that you didn’t under
stand. Then I was desperate. I
had been shamed before you, and
by you. You were going, and
not understanding, and I could
n’t let you. So I did follow you
to the wagon train. You were
my star. I wonder why. I did
feel that you'd get me out—you
see, I was so madly selfish, like a
drowing person. I clutched at
you; might have put you under
while climbing up, myself.”
“We have climbed together,”
said I. “You have made me into
a man.”
“But I forced myself on you.
I played you against Daniel. I
foresaw that you might have to
kill him, to rid me of him. You
were my weapon. And I used
you. Do you blame me that I
used you?”
“Daniel and T were destined
to meet, just as you and I were
destined to meet,” said I. “I
had to prove myself on him. It
would have happened anyway.
Had I not stood up to him you
would not have loved me.”
“That was not the price,” she
sighed. “Maybe you don’t
understand yet, I’m so afraid you
don’t understand,” she pleaded.
“At tin' last I had resigned you,
1 would have left you free, l saw
how you felt; but, oh, it happen
ed just the same—we were fated,
and you showed that you hated
me.”
“I never hated you. I was
perplexed. That was a part of
love,” said I.
“You mean it? You are hold
ing nothing back?” she asked,
anxious.
“1 am holding nothing back,”
I answered. “As you will know,
1 think, in time to come.”
Again we reclined, silent, at
peace: a strange peace of mind
and body, to which the demon
strations by the waiting Sioux
were alien things.
She spoke.
Are we very guilty, do you
think!"
“In what, dearest!"
“In this, here. 1 am already
married, you know."
“That is another life," l rea
soned. “It is long ago and un
der different law."
“But if we went baek into it—
if we escaped!"
“Then we should—'but don’t
let’s talk of that. "
“Then you should forget and
I should return to Benton,” she
said. “1 have decided. I should
return to Benton, where Montoyo
is, and maybe find another way.
But I should not live with him;
never, never! 1 should ask him
to release me."
“I, with you," I informed.
“We should go together, and do
what was best.”
“You would? You wouldn’t
be ashamed, or afraid!"
“Ashamed or afraid of what!"
She cried out happily, and
shivered.
“I hope we don’t have to. He
might kill you. Yes, I hope we
don't have to. I)o you mind?”
I shook my head, smiling my
response. There were tears in her
eyes, repaying me.
Our conversation became more
fitful. Time sped, I don’t know
how, except that we were in a
kind of lethargy, taking no note
of time and hanging fast to this
our respite from the tempestuous
past.
Once she dreamily murmured,
npropos of nothing, yet aprop ;s
of much:
‘‘We must be about the same
age. I am uot old, not really
very old.*’
‘‘I am twenty-fivo,” I answer
eu.
“fv> I thought,” she mused.
Then, later, in n.,anner of hav
ing revolved this idea also, more
distinctly apropos and voiced
with a certain triumph :
“I’m glad we drank water
when we might; aren't you?”
“You were so wise,” I praised ;
and I felt sorry for her cracked
lips. It is astonishing with what
swiftness, even upon the dry
desert, amid the dry air, under
the dry burning sun, thirst
quickens into a consuming fire
scorching from within outward
to the sfcin.
We lapsed into that remark
able patience, playing the game
with the Sioux and steadily view
ing each other; and she asked,
casually:
“Where will you shoot me,
Frank?”
This bared the secret heart of
me.
“No! No!'0 I begged. “Dont
speak of that. It will be bad
enough at the best. IIow can I?
I don’t know how 1 can do it!”
“You will though,” she sooth
ed. I’d rather have it from you.
You must be brave, for yourself
and for me; and kind, and quick.
I think it should be through the
temple. That’s sure. But you
won’t wait to look, will you?
You’ll spare yourself that?”
This made me groan, craven,
and wipe my hand across my
forehead to brush away the
frenzy. The fingers came free,
damp with cold stieky swreat—a
prodigy of a parchment skin
which puzzled me.
We had not exchanged a
caress, save by voice; had not
again touched each other. Some
times I glanced at the Sioux, but
not for long; I dreaded to lose
sight of her by so much as a
moment. The Sioux remained
virtually as from the beginning
of their vigil. They sat secure,
drank, probably ate, with time
their ally: sat judicial and per
sistent, as though depending up
on the progress of a slow fuse, or
upon the workings of poison,
which indeed was the ease.
Thirst and heat tortured un
ceasingly. The sun had passed
the zenith—this sun of a culmi
nating sumer throughout which
he had thrived regal aud lustful.
It seemed ignoble of him that he
now should stoop to torment only
us, and one of us a small woman.
There was all his boundless do
main for him.
But stoop he did, burning
nearer and nearer. She broke
with suden passion of hoarse
appeal.
“Why do we wait? Why not
now ? ’ ’
“We ought to wait,” I stam
mered, miserable and pitying.
“Yes,” she whispered, submis
sive, “I suppose we ought. One
always does. But I am so tired.
1 think,” she said, “that I will
let my hair down. I shall go with
my hair down. I have a right to,
at the last.”
Whereupon she fell to loosen
ing her hair aud braiding it with
hurried fingers.
Then after a time I said :
“We’ll not be much longer,
dear. ’ ’
I hope not, said she, pant
ing, her lips stiff, her eyes bright
and feverish. “They’ll rush us
at sundown; maybe before.”
“I believe,” said I, blurring
the words, for my tongue was
getting unmanageable, “they’re
making ready now.”
She exclaimed and struggled
and sat up, .and we both gazed.
Out there the Sioux, in that
world of their own, had uroused
to energy. I fancied that they
had palled of the inaction. At
any rate they were upon their
feet, several were upon their
horses, others mounted hastily,
squad joined squad as though by
summons, and here fame their
outpost scout, galloping in, his
blanket streaming from one baud
like a banner of an Islam
prophet.
They delayed an instant,
gesticulating.
“It will be soon,” she whisper
er. touching my arm. “When
they are half-way, don’t fail. I
trust you. Will you kiss met
That is only the once.”
I kissed her; dry cracked lips
met dry cracked lips. She laid
herself down and closed her eyes,
and smiled.
“I’m all right,” she said.
“And tired. I’ve worked so
hard, for only this. You mustn’t
look.”
Ana you must wait ror me,
somewhere,” I entreated. “Just
a moment.”
“Of course,” she sighed.
The Sioux charged, shrieking,
hammering, lashing, all of one
purpose : that, us; she, I; my life,
her body; and quickly kneeling
beside her (I was cool and firm
and collected) I felt her hand
guide the revolver barrel. But
I did not look. She had forbid
den, and I kept my eyes upon
them, until they were half-way,
and in exultation I pulled the
trigger, my hand already tensed
to snatch and cock and deliver
myself under their very grasp.
That was a sweetness.
The hammer clicked. There
had been no jar, no report. The
hammer had only clicked, I tell
you, shocking me to the core. A
missed cartridge? An empty
chamber? Which? No matter.
I should achieve for her, first;
then, myself. I heard her gasp,
they were very near, how they
shouted, how the bullets and
arrows spatted and hissed, and I
had convulsively cocked the gun,
she had clutched it—when look
ing through them, agonized and
blinded as I was—looking
through them as if they were
phantasms I sensed another
sound and Avith sight sharpened
I saAV.
Then I wrested the revolver
from her. I fired pointblank, I
fired again (the Colt’s did not
fail); they sAvept by, hooting,
jostling; they thudded on; and
rising I screeched and Avaved, as
bizarre, no doubt, as any animat
ed searecroAV.
It bad been a trumpet note, and
a cavalry guidon and o rank of
bobbing figures had come gallop
ing, galloping over an imper
ceptible swell.
She cried to me, from my feet.
You didn’t do it! You didn’t
do it!”
“We’re saved,” I blatted.
“Hurrah! We’re saved! The
soldiers are here.”
Again the trumpet pealed, lilt
ing silvery. She tottered up,
clinging to me. She stared. She
released me, and to my gladly
questing gaze her face Avas very
white, her eyes struggling for
comprehension, like those of one
awakened from a dream.
“I must go back to Benton,” '
she faltered. “I shall never get
away from Benton.”_ ______
(To Be Continued)
Save Our Mermaids.
From the Milwaukee Journal.
America Is never without Its live
issues. Perhaps that is what keeps
us contended and happy. Now here
Is the bathing suit question bobbing
right up with the return of the
spring showers, and taking its place
alongside weighty matters of peace
and war, the tariff, oil leases and
what not. It seems that someone,
looking over the broad expanses of
our bathing beaches, saw that in
justice Is being done. Why, man
alive, there are so many regulations
as to the length of suits that a fair
bather. Jumping from the Atlantic
to Lake Michigan and from Michigan
to the Pacific, has to keep a whole
wardrobe to meet the requirements.
We ought to have a national stand
ard for suits, that’s what we ought,
and so the agitation Is on. The Na
tional Society for the Relief of Dis
tressed Mermaids will probably be
the next step, and good luck to It.
AVe don’t know what will be done
Rbout oil. the tariff or world peace,
but we do know that this question ,
of a standardized length In bath
ing suits must be settled. There are
some issues to which you can’t close
your eyes.__
Why They Trust McAdoo.
(From the Atlanta Journal)
■Why Is It that William G. Me
Adoo has so strong a hold on the
minds of the American rank and
file? Largely for the reason tnat
they know whore he stands on baste
Issues, and know that his policies
art at once liberal and constructive.
He has left them In no doubt as
to what he will do if they elect
him President, and that Is the man
ner of man with whom they like
to deal.
Repeal of the Ford-McCumber
tariff, with Its unjust burden on
consumers and its destructive bear
ing on our foreign trade; revision
of the tax system, to relieve the
multitudes on whom it presses so
Inequitably; substantial aid for ag
riculture on sound economic princi
ples, In the interest of the com
monwealth; and a rooting up and
casting out of the shameful abuses
which have come to infest the Na
tional Government under a Repub
lican regime—these are among the
major reforms which Mr. McAdoo
has explicitly pledged, every one of
which Is essential to America's
prosperity and progress and honor.
Such nre the spirit and the pur
pose. the mind and the heart of the
foremost Democrat In America to
day. No marvel that multitudes of
hts countrymen turn confidently to
ward h'.Ui.
---j
WARNS LISTENERS TO
SHUN TALL BRUNETTES
Universal Service
Constantinople, May 25.—Tall,
Mini brunettes do not make good
wives. This is the solemn de
claration of the hodja of the Mer
sli e Mosque, who, during his
rnmadan sermon, warned his con
gregation to flee from such as
from the plague, and never to
marry them.
Unfortunately for the hodja’s
views, blondes are reported ex
tremely rarcjn Anatolia.
FLIERS IGNORE
RUSSIAN SNUB
Lieutenant Smith Will Not
Protest Ordering Off of
Territory
Tokio, May 25.—Lieut. Lowell
Smith, commander of the three
American planes now circling the
world, told Universal Service he had
no official protest to make to Wash
ington concerning treatment he arid
the other fliers received when they
were forced to land in Russian terri
torial waters because of a terrific
blizzard while flying from Attu isl
and to Asia.
‘T have no protest to make fcd'n^
cernlng the treatment we received
when forced to land near Kamchat
ka,” said Lieutenant Smith. ‘‘We
were thrown off our course because
of a heavy snowstorm at sea and
after landing near Bearing island, a
boatload of Russians put out to our
plane and courteously explained that
our presence was not wanted.
"I explained we were there by ac
cident and had been forced to land.
We did not care to go ashore and
furthermore had not been author
ized by the war department to do
so. It was late in the evening when
we reached Kamchatka and after
passing the night there aboard our
plane, took off at daybreak the next
morning for Parantasiru.”
POSTAL SALARY
BOOST LIKELY
Both Houses of Congress
Expected to Act This
Week
Washington, May 25.—Within the
next few days congress plans to pass
a l>ill granting pay increases of $300
per annum to all postal employes,
including postmasters not in the first
and second class.
Two separate bills, very similar,
are pending—one in the Senate, the
other in the House.
Senator Edge of New Jersey, in
charge of the bill, expects a vote
late Tuesday.
Sponsors for the House bill are
planning to resurrect that measure
from the executive committee.
However, Senate leaders are hop
ing they can get their bill to the
House in time to offer it as a sub
stitute for the House measure.
There is practically little if any
opposition to the bill in either
branch. Postmaster General New,
who urged delay in consideration of
the bill pending action on a bill to
revise the postal rates, has with
drawn his opposition, it is said by
leaders.
President Coolidge is expected to
sign the bill, although it will require
an appropriation of $65,000,000.
Man Uses Parole
As Medical Diploma
‘Graduate’ of Prison ‘School
Of Medicine’ Sought by
Authorities
Universal Service
Los Angeles, May 25.—Louis A.
D’Angoiz, a "graduate'1 of the San
Quentin, Cal., prison "school of
medicine" la being sought by sta-t*
and local authorltes. charged with
practicing medicine without a license
by Albert Carter, special agent of
the board of medical examiners.
Mrs. U. J. Peak of this city is dead,
after having been treated with goat
gland Injections by the self styled
doctor. Sam Hensley, suffering from
tuberculosis, Is dying at Pacetma.
after having been given the gland
treatment.
D'Angolz is a former convict, now
sought ns a parole breaker. He was
convicted several years ago as a
forger. In prison he served as a
nurse under the expert who operated
on various Inmates and Is reported
to have renewed their vigor by trana
plantlngk glands.
With his parole paper as a "di
ploma." D’Angoiz sallied forth. He
endeavored to establish a clinic her*,
but was stow>ed when the furniture
firm from whom he ordered luxuri
ous office furniture discovered his
checks to be worthless.
SEVEN DIE
IN STORM
Poplar Bluffs, Mo., May 24.—Sevett
persons are reported killed at Cray
Ridge, Mo., and one at Caruthers, i!Ie,
Mo., in a severe wind storm Fri lay
ni dvt. One block was reported de
stroyed at CarutytiSrsvlUe.
. ■ — ■ I
Contracted Cold at a
Billy Sunday Revival
Developed Into Systemic Catarrh
Recommends PE-RU-NA
Mr. A. R. Wilson,
LaFolIette, Tenn.
The letter written a short time ago
by Mr. A. R. Wilson of LaFolIette,
Tenn., brings some more direct evi
dence of the value of Pe-ru-na in the
treatment of catarrhal diseases.
It reads as follows -.—“While attend
ing Billy Sunday's great revival at
Knoxville, Tenn., last February I con
tracted a cold which weakened my en
tire system. I have taken only three
bottles of Pe-ru-na and feel like a
new man. It is a great system builder
as well as a great catarrh remedy."
To attempt to even estimate thd
thousands who, in the last half cen
tury, have come to know and appre
ciate the merits of Pe-ru-na would bd
I worte than useless. The number is
astonishing and increasing daily.
Your nearest dealer has Pe-ru-na
fa both tablet and liquid form. Insist
upon having Pe-ru-na, the original
treatment for catarrh.
fjtpensine Good
A matter of fact father of an em
bryo poet handed some of the lad’s
efforts to a distinguished author of
verse, and asked for his opinion.
“Well, what’s the answer?” queried
the successful stockman.
“Alus I” sighed the real poet. “Those
things are so good, I’m afraid you’ll
have to support Henry the rest of hie
life.”—Writer’s Monthly.
Longfellow Up to Date
The Instructor In English requested
the girls to put Longfellow’s “Village
Blacksmith” Into brief verse of their
own. One of the flappers turned In
the following:
■Something accomplished, something
did.
Has earned the world's approval, kid.
Advice
“My wife won't let me go out.”
“Are you consulting ine?”
“Put It that way If you like.”
“You go to the office, do you not?”
“Yes.”
“In that case you are out. Stay
out."
Nothing to Work On
"Did you ’ear that Mrs. Jones woi
a vacuum cleaner In a competition?"
“No; did she?”
“Yes, but she says It ain’t no good
to ’er. She ain't got no vucuums.”—
London Answers.
Rare Coincidence
Teacher—Can you give an example
of a coincidence?
Young Student—Yes, my father and
lotlier had their wedding on the same
;ay.
A Bulldog
“Love me, love my dog.” “I love
your dog, girlie. I depend on him
to keep the other guys away."
God bless him who pays visits and
short visits.—Arabian Proverb.
Say “Bayer”-Insistl
For Pain Headache
Neuralgia Rheumatism
[Lumbago Colds
Accept only a
Bayer packago
whichcontains proven directions
Handy “Bayer” boxes of 12 tablets
Also bottles of 24 and 100—Druggists
Aspirin Is the trade mark of Barer Manu
facture of Monoacetloacldesler of SailcrUcaell
_ _,______ i
